


Need You One Last Time

by Nishitzu_Hayes



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Feels, Goodbyes, Hurt, Insecurities, Leaving, Loss, M/M, Or Just a little, Pining, Someone please let them be, They deserved better, might add later - Freeform, no comfort, no happy ending, the author's bitter, too little too late, very bitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nishitzu_Hayes/pseuds/Nishitzu_Hayes
Summary: When the letter comes, Sean’s not surprised: enraged, yes, torn, even more…but surprised, no, he is not.Zach, on the other hand, fears his former master will leave with no goodbyes, and with good reason.Both of them need something, neither is quite ready to accept what.But there is no more time to wait.
Relationships: Sean Mancer/Zachariah Mancer
Kudos: 6





	Need You One Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> So, here I am.  
Finally.  
Posting about these two hurts me on so many levels, but I love them nonethelss. 
> 
> This ideas comes loosely from the lyrics of the song "Need you now" - by Lady Antebellum (I know it's kinda old-ish, but I recommend it, its both sad and hopeful at the same time).  
Taken a leap with some personal headcanons, I hope you'll forgive me, but the story pratically wrote itself and they fit perfectly...so.
> 
> The story is unbeta'd, so forgive any typos or mystake that I haven't corrected.  
Without futher ado....enjoy!

_It’s not the loss…it’s the biting chill, it’s the bone-deep cold that gets you. _

_When you’re alone in the dark, and all that you can feel is that itch, something that you can’t quite scratch, something that makes your skin crawl…and you know, you know that the only solution is _him_; but he’s not there anymore. _

_  
There are no goodbyes and no tears, and it breaks you. _

_Because you need him just as much as you need air to breathe.  
  
It’s the scattered photographs, it’s the fleeting memories…they pierce fast and deep and you can’t oppose it; those wounds ache, you just have to bear it. _

_  
There is just no cure for that kind of poison.  
  
And you know what’s funny? You would still drink it to its last drops, because you’d rather die for _him _than live without; withdrawal and pain but there is no _you _otherwise.  
  
You picture him in your dreams, but his image fades into a void that you cannot fight; it frustrates you, but mostly, you are afraid.  
  
Oh, so…so scared.  
  
_It’s then that Zach wakes, panting, heart hammering in his chest, skin clammy and covered in cold sweat; he shivers, tendrils of his nightmare clinging to his conscious mind like an unwanted guest, nausea mounting, skin crawling out of something he doesn’t want to really acknowledge.  
  
It’s fear, he realizes, as he tries to desperately keep everything else at bay, at an arm length’s; he’s alone now, he reminds himself, and he’s an adult…he can’t keep running back to his…no, not his master anymore.  
  
He chides himself for being so goddamn fragile, for being too needy, but he can only think about Sean, and it kills him; he desperately clings to any kind of bullshit to not think about him, but it’s Sean’s eyes and voice that come to mind, that allow him respite.  
  


He hates himself for it.  
Because Sean’s steady, strong and broken and Zach needs him more than ever.  
But he’ll never reach him, so he has no other choice but go on empty.

  
Therefore, he takes a steady breath, still the knot in his throat seems to only grow larger, until he can barely breathe; it’s then that fear transforms into panic and Zach cannot keep a lid on it anymore. He doesn’t have enough willpower to push it back.  
  
He heaves, as his swirling thoughts finally come to light in their gruesome form: the words Sean had spoken to him barely a day before.  
  
_The front.  
Sean leaves to never come back…he leaves to die.  
  
_And just thinking about it is too much: Zachariah wants to yell and scream and kill and run away, far far away where no power will reach them but he can’t, because he know Sean won’t let him; his _master_ wont’ let him waste his life on him, oh no.  
He thinks he doesn’t deserve it.  
  
Zach is certain Sean will decide for him, and that’s what scares him the most.  
  
No goodbyes, no tears…no more him.  
  
Vanished into thin air without a word, leaving Zachariah to wither in his absence; sink slowly but surely into the silent void his form will leave.

  
That awareness crushes him like a steel fist, strangling what is left of his life and sanity out of him; Zach thinks he can hear his ribcage shattering, splintering, under the sheer force of that knowledge and there is not a single thing he can do to prevent any of it.  
  
He feels powerless and frustrated, and for a split second he has a glimpse of what Sean must have suffered; it’s then Zach decides he won’t go to him, won’t bother him, although he needs it so bad it hurts, he refuses to put Sean through something as painful once again.  
  
There is no reassurance that can be given, it would only hurt more.  
No solution, no avoiding their demise.  
  
Thus Zachariah curls on himself among his messy blanket and squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to go back to sleep; yet, the pounding of his heart doesn’t subside, each heartbeat more tormenting than the previous, anguish gushing from his broken self like blood from a wound.

Zach despises it, all the pain and the agony he can’t endure on his own.  
Despises himself above all.  
  
Loathes the fact that still, it’s Sean all that he can recall clearly.  
  
His hands on him as they sparred, his arms sustaining him as he had carried him outside the dome where he had his last trial, his half smile when Zach did something incredibly bold and incredibly stupid; all that Sean had taught him about life and its sanctity, and his voice, affection dripping from each word, as he had told him to go and seek him out if he ever got troubled, or needed help.  
  
And right then, Zach figures he needs help more than anyone else.  
  
Next thing he knows, he’s standing: throwing on the first clothes he can reach, he’s out of his room’s door before he can think too much about it; although he had resolved not to run to Sean, he can’t hold back, can’t hold it in anymore.

Zach promises no one in particular that he won’t talk about Sean leaving, as he walks the hallway, makes mental notes about trying his best to look composed, meditates about all the things but _that_ he could talk about when he finally reaches Sean; nevertheless fear and heartbreak and loneliness gnaw at his insides, relentless, like beasts that have gone hungry too long, they feast on him without mercy. 

Uncontrolled emotions drive him crazy, so crazy that he’s suddenly running, anxiety like molten iron scalding his veins; he feels lightheaded, barely registering his surroundings, not minding whom he encounters as he dashes past soldiers and technomancers alike.

He knows the risk he’s taking is huge and foolish, but no, nothing will stop him this time.  
  


_It could be the last time.  
  
What if he has already left?_

Zach knows it makes no sense, but his mind is not functioning, he feels overcharged, overwhelmed and he just doesn’t know what to imagine anymore; the lines between dreams and reality blur and in a second his life is terror and hopelessness.  
  
Prayers fall from his lips, barely whispers, and when tears suddenly appear he blinks them away, or tries to, to no avail.

  
He’s close, so close, but when he reaches that yearned door, and knocks on it, no response comes; Zach’s blood freezes in his veins, and his heart stops.  
  
Could it be…?

When a voice behind him – familiar and ad oh, so reassuring – calls his name, Zach is barely coherent, and all his good intentions about being proper and composed are forgotten, melted like snow on a spring day.  
  
_____________________________________

_There is only rage, and you know, in your world; in the ruins of who you were fire spreads like a plague, and there is not stopping the destruction.  
  
Haven’t you already paid the price? But they ask for more, more than you can give, more than you’re _allowed_ to promise them.  
  
‘Cause they can plead, beg and threaten but no, this time you won’t give in; you can’t afford it.  
They can take away your freedom and your life, they can destroy your hope and your dreams…but _him_, no, they won’t have, not from you.  
  
Because he’s something that is not for you to take in the first place, moreover, to give. And even if he were, you wouldn’t condemn him, no.  
  
He deserves to live, while maybe, you’re already at the end of the line; so, what’s your life worth compared to his? You’re ready to call the shots, to make that sacrifice, even if he’ll hate you for it.  
  
No goodbyes, no tears.  
Just plain agony.  
  
You’ll point the gun, but do you really have the courage, while you look him in his pretty eyes, to pull the trigger?  
You don’t answer that, because the response frightens you more than you can admit. _

When the letter comes, barely a couple of days after Zachariah’s investiture, Sean’s not surprised: enraged, yes, torn, even more…but surprised he is not.  
  
He reads the words carefully, studying each syllable with a glare so piercing that it could kill whoever even just wrote the message if he was standing there; Sean’s aware it wouldn’t make much of a difference, but as he reads the death sentence spelled before him, he wishes he could indeed kill someone, someone in particular.  
  
Wrath comes and goes, like a tidal wave, unbearable, taking turns with both resignation and dread, which weight on him like boulders, unmoving and unavoidable; Sean knows that there is no rebellion, he doesn’t even think about it, lest he put Zachariah in danger as well…but when he thinks about his former student, the thought of leaving him rises at the top of his mind, cutting, shredding his soul in the pain it causes him.

It’s not like he has a choice, but Sean knows that when he leaves – because he will leave, no matter how much Zach’s anguish at his decision will haunt him forever – he won’t be coming back; he won’t be seeing Zachariah ever again.  
  
After the meaning of the communication sinks into his brain, Sean sits on the edge of his bed, knees trembling more than he cares to show; it doesn’t matter that he is alone, his pride, or what’s remaining of it, still won’t allow him to manifest such a weakness.  
  
Sean remains still for an eternity, breath steady because he won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him hurt, oh no, and muses over everything that he has sacrificed up to that moment; he has given Abundance _everything_, from his dreams to his freedom to love and to hope, and yet they ask for more.  
  
They ask for his very life, the only thing that’s left.

_No, wait…one of the two things he has left. _

Although the other he won’t give, no; like lightning he realizes in a flash that’s exactly what they are going for: they hope he will desert, they wish Sean will decide that this is the last straw, so that they will hold a pretext to accuse and search and destroy.  
  
They are purposely pushing him into a corner, waiting, yearning for him to take the wrong step.  
But they don’t know him at all.

Because Sean won’t betray, he won’t turn his back to his people, to his family, to his…  
He doesn’t finish the thought, as it won’t do him any good; spite rises in his throat and it tastes like bile and suddenly Sean hates everyone and everything.  
  
He rises, and in a fit of rage he shatters everything he can reach: all the things he had collected through the years, a small crystal on the bench, a rare artefact on the shelf, until he takes in hand a picture frame, battered and ruined, a dirty little thing a merchant had gifted him after Sean had saved him from raiders; he is about to throw the fragile frame to join everything else on the floor, when the smile of the person posing in the picture with him stops all processes in his brain.  
  
It’s Zach’s smile on the other side of the glass.

  
The picture’s blurry, small, with the borders all scratched and cut; it’s an old memory, that one, one that Sean had wanted to keep close to him: he remembers how Zachariah had begged him for that picture, and as Sean had begrudgingly granted his pupil’s request, standing close to him with a stern expression and crossed arms waiting for the shutter to close, Zach’s face had lit up like the sun, scorching and bright.  
  
At that time, Sean had thought it worth the annoyance; now, contemplating Zach’s twinkling eyes, and content face, Sean still thinks so.  
  
The comfort of reminiscing lasts for about a minute, before Sean puts the frame back where it belongs and reality sinks back in, clearing from his mind any sense of peace; after the outburst, there is no more anger to support him as well, so Sean goes back to sitting on his bed, head in his hands and desperation inching close.

He is very aware he can’t escape, because if he does, not only they will come for him, they will come for everyone else, including Zachariah; but if he leaves, then who will protect their youngest? It’s that dilemma that really eats him alive.  
  
Nevertheless, no matter all his musings, Sean still has to take chances, and he can’t stand it; he wishes he could find counsel, he wish he could find peace, but there is none to seek nor to receive, and so he stands and leaves, with no option but to accept his fate.

  
He goes out to numb his mind with whatever’s cheaper and not think about a single thing anymore.  
‘Cause for all the strength in the world, he is weak and tired and can’t take it anymore.  
  
They say “third time’s a charm”, and surely, at his third…whatever he is drinking, thoughts don’t come to bother him anymore, or at least Sean is trying to convince himself of that; he puts the bottle down, observes it for a second and realizes that this is not really him, but he doesn’t have the mind to care.  
  
He downs more of it, ‘till it’s empty, and stops to look at the glass bottom of the bottle; there is a faint light coming from above seeping through; and he is probably already drunk out of his mind – or maybe he was already out of his mind before he started drinking – because he could swear that those staring back at him are Zach’s eyes, grey and sharp and full of life.  
  
And how come that now Sean’s thinking about Zachariah again?  
He realizes he needs him, but won’t acknowledge the feeling.  
  
He will leave, and won’t tell the other anything.  
That much Sean’s sure of.  
  
Because Sean’s already broken beyond repair and that goodbye he won’t be able to stand; not with Zach before him staring with his emotions written on his face like an open book: fear, regret and guilt, together with maybe enough willpower to shake the earth.  
  
Willpower that surely will lead Zachariah to attempt something bold and foolish, something like convincing him to stay and get everyone killed.  
  
So Sean sets his resolve in stone and swears to his gods and ancestors he won’t tell, he won’t seek, he won’t ask…although he needs it so much, and for once desires so bad to be consoled, to be held.  
  
_Protect him at all cost, even if it means to hurt him. _

But can he really do it? Pull the trigger without consequences?  
  
The universe has a twisted sense of humour, that much Sean should’ve known by now: he pays and leaves and prays to be able to avoid Zach altogether; they gave him two days to gather his things, and that’s a lot and not much at the same time.  
  
All that his life is worth, is a couple of day.  
Depressing, he thinks, as he walks back to his own room.  
  
The end of the line is his door, he can see in the distance, but something’s amiss, because there, where there should be only darkness and metal, stands a figure, moving, clearly agitated, and it takes Sean’s about four seconds to recognize who it is; his heart sinks, and he calls out a name, tentative, a name he had hoped to never speak again.   
  
«Zachariah?»  
  
And surely, the figure turns in hearing the name, and Sean’s heart breaks audibly in seeing the state the Zachariah is in: face twisted in something that dangerously resembles madness, dark circles under hollowed out eyes, tears barely drying on unnaturally pale cheeks; it’s obvious something is haunting him, and Sean could bet his life on what exactly it is that is destroying his former student piece by piece.

  
  


_Guilt. Fear. Regret._  
  
Zachariah turns and can’t believe his eyes, for Sean’s standing there, real and present, and he wants to scream his relief, though he stops immediately, the words stuck in his throat, because Sean’s defences are down and suddenly Zach can see everything, and there is guilt and anguish that mirrors his own in his clear blue eyes, usually composed and stern, and Zach doesn’t know what to do, now very aware of the state he himself is in.  
  
He never wanted to hurt Sean.

_Then why did you come here? _

They stare at each other in silence for what feels an eternity, before Sean breaks the stall: they can’t afford to be seen, not when he’s about to leave for the front and there is so much at stake; for that reason he takes Zachariah by the arm, firm and curt, all but dragging the other inside so that they would be out of the open and away from prying eyes.  
  
He doesn’t have the faintest idea of what to say once they are inside, but for now just being hidden from Abundance watchful gaze is enough.

_Don’t let me go_.

Zachariah’s freezing skin burns where Sean’s touching it, and it feels so right he can’t seem to care where the other is taking him, he just wishes Sean never let go of him; he feels so lost, that his _ master_ strong guidance is all he craves, nothing else matters.  
  
He blinks once, and suddenly they are both inside Sean’s room; it’s not all that different from Zach’s own, just a little bigger and more furnished, with a shelf on one side where Zachariah spots a picture.  
  
It’s a little too far, blurry, but for him its unmistakable: it’s the same he has on the chest at the foot of his bed, cherished and precious, a memento of happier days; in recognizing the same keepsake he has in Sean’s room, Zachariah feels his heart bursting with something so warm it threatens to melt his very core, and before Sean can let go of him, Zachariah twists the hold, grasping desperately at his hand, pleading with no words for the other to not let go.  
  
It’s not like Zach doesn’t know where Sean’s boundaries start and where they end, but at the same time, in this very moment, as they watch each other, at safe distance one from the other, the only exception being their linked hands, Zachariah can only picture the one time Sean had allowed himself a slip; it had been after Zach’s trial, as they stood side by side observing the dome in the setting sun: Sean had turned towards him, and as Zachariah had lost himself in committing to memory the pure beauty of his master’s face bathed in the soft rays, Sean had taken Zach’s hand in his and had held it for a while, simply smiling at him, a soft expression gracing his lineaments.  
  
Just remembering it hurt, but what is far more important for Zach is that Sean had _craved_ that touch as much as he had craved it, and that must have meant something.

But times flows, dilated into minute that feels like hours, and neither of them says nothing, and all of a sudden Zachariah feels insecure of what he remembers, of what he had read in Sean’s face back then; he releases his grip on the other’s fingers, and it’s then that Sean speaks.  
  
«Zach…please»

_I don’t know what I want, but I need it.  
  
_The simple gesture Zach offers him, grasping at his hand, desperation and something more written plainly on his face has Sean’s heart pulsing achingly in his chest; he tries to remain neutral, schooling his features as he has done many time before, but his feelings he cannot fool: he wants so fiercely to reach out as he has done once before, take everything Zachariah has to give this once, but he does not dare to.  
  
He dares not be so cruel.  
  
The times passes, without him doing anything but passively stand there, too caught up in his own considerations, when Sean realizes he has waited too long as Zach’s expression mutates to one of uncertainty and he finally lets go; alarms rise in Sean’s head, muting any coherent thought, and his own need crashes over him like a tsunami.  
  


Stop waiting. Stop holding back.

  
He has no barriers, the alcohol made sure of that, so he has no defences against his own absolute sheer desire.  
  
Sean speaks before he can stop himself, before his logic and reason can convince him to not say anything.  
  
He pleads, but he doesn’t know for what.  
  


Zachariah stops and stares, seems to understand what Sean himself couldn’t comprehend; he comes closer, until their breaths mingle, and the tension between them causes their powers to spark and come together like firework.  
  
Something snaps.  
They are out of time, out of chances.  
It’s now or never, Zach mouths to Sean, mute, because he doesn’t have the voice, but Sean understands anyway.  
  
A leap of faith either is insecure whether to take or not.

  
For once, the choice is up to Zachariah, as he extends a hand to caress the side of Sean’s face – and Sean lets him, finally – stroking his skin gently, scars and stubble underneath his delicate fingers; Sean can hardly stand it, he believes his heart will give out, that is until Zachariah’s next words reach him, just a whisper, coarse and broken  
  
«I need you»

That’s all it takes, really, before it all comes crashing down, as all intentions and plans fly out of the window and no reason can hold them back anymore.  
  
Sean grips at Zach’s fingers brushing against his jaw, holds them there while pulling him in with his free hand, he bends a little, angles just right and finally their lips come together and for either of them is like the whole world stopped; their first kiss is fierce and biting, Sean’s hungry and can’t, won’t stop.  
  
He doesn’t think about consequences or about tomorrow and neither does Zach, whom in turn is pliant and accepting because he knows, deep down, that Sean yearns for this.  
  
The absolute magnitude of Sean’s desire should scare Zach, but the consideration doesn’t even brush his mind; he opens, because there is no need to hold back, no need for fear, not when he is exactly where is most safe.

  
  
_Where he is supposed to be. _  
  
Sean lets go of Zach’s hand, pulls him closer and closer, one arm around his hips, the other arm snaking around his shoulders, his palm on the back of Zach’s head to keep him in place, as if there is ever a chance of him running; but Zach doesn’t even think about moving away: his hands on either side of Sean’s face, he kisses back fiercely, sucks on Sean’s tongue and demands, demands and just demands to be given.  
  
Their lust is like a landslide: it grows the more it runs downhill.  
Stopping it or trying to would be foolish, deathly, so they don’t.  
  
They stay flush against each other, burning bodies touching, exchanging heat and touches; Zach’s hands roam, eager and he is not shy, doesn’t hide his want. Sean responds in turn, almost amused at Zach’s enthusiasm, rewards him with slow caresses along his neck, his shoulders, his half-exposed chest, his careful fingertips swiftly followed by his mouth, and Zach moans like he has just reached heaven.

And maybe it’s not Heaven, it’s closer to the garden of Eden, fleeting and prohibited: Sean guides Zach backwards, towards the bed, pushes him onto it and immediately follows suit, climbing on top of the other; they remove each other’s clothes, and while Sean is impeccable and swift, when removing Sean’s uniform Zach’s fingers slip a couple of times, trembling both from excitement and nervousness.  
  
Sean laughs at it without malice, and Zachariah is endeared by the sound of it; it’s so full and content it makes Zach’s chest ache with fullness.  
  
From there, the flame is ignited and burns slow and lazy; they need no haste, no rushing.  
Their touches slow, become less frantic and more deliberate: Zach slides his open palms along the lines of Sean’s body, marvelling at each scar and blemish; he is delicate and careful, revering almost, as he mouths at the skin, mapping every inch of his _master_’s body with his tongue and hands.

  
Sean responds with quiet gasps, he is not vocal, but the lust pooling in his eyes and his body’s little twitches are enough for Zach to go on; their positions reverse, so Zach has freedom to do as pleases.

  
Sean relents control, for once more than content to receive; and gods, Zach has a lot to give.  
They share a messy open-mouthed kiss, and from there, Zach lips leave a trail of feather-light touches down to Sean’s collarbone, where Zachariah’s teeth leave a faint mark on the skin; Sean groans, but it’s clear he is trying to hold back a moan, and Zach chuckles before moving on.

  
He then kisses his way down to Sean’s sculpted abdomen, and it’s a joy for Zach to gently scrape the skin with his teeth there, for Sean bites back the sounds rising from his throat while his body twitches in response.

They stop to kiss again, and they realize they are smiling.  
  
It’s when Zach finally reaches Sean’s hips, teasing him with impossible slow movements of his fingers, that Sean finally has enough of this sweet little torture; he rises, letting Zach straddle him, and kisses the other fiercely, tongue demanding, lapping at the inside of Zach’s mouth.  
  
Zach moans in response, kissing back with less force; Sean holds him close, brings their bodies together again.

  
They move together, a symphony with no music; it’s Sean turn to guide Zach, and he does, like a musician, he seems to be able to touch all the right places to make Zach sing.  
  
In the throes of pleasure, Zach turns his head, trying to hide his very vocal approval in the pillows; seeing his exposed neck, Sean cannot hold back as something akin to possession rises within him: he sucks a bruise in the pale skin, almost like a mark…his mark.

  
Zach moans even louder, and Sean keeps working on the soft skin of his neck, licking and biting, until there is no untouched place left out; Sean is greedy, ravenous: he has renounced so much, he cannot hold back.

Zachariah holds him close, accepts his desire and all the hunger.  
Sean asks for more, asks if Zach is sure of where they are going, and Zach has only enough voice to let out a strangled “yes”; it’s enough, Sean caresses him, kisses his skin, strokes him in such a tender manner it makes Zach’s body ache deep, reassurance and acceptance and warmth all together.  
  
They still don’t rush, although their desire demands it: Sean wants to be certain that the only time they have will be something forever etched inside Zachariah’s heart; and how could it not be, but he still wishes to be sure, and the more than sure.

  
  
_Oh how cruel, you leave and you still wish to be the only one. _

Sean uses all he knows: brushes against Zach’s nipples, measures his reaction, sweet voice coming out loud, he then fondles them, twisting each nipple until it’s red and sensitive, passing his tongue over them right after; Zachariah rewards his effort with pleas to hurry, because the pleasure is so sweet he can’t take any more.  
  
But Sean is a devil in his own merit, he goes on, he returns Zach’s gestures one by one and tortures him, until he is a mess, barely coherent; it’s when Zach’s finally begs for release that he drops the game: he gets the oil and spreads on his fingers, moving to prepare Zachariah thoroughly.  
  
The pain is sharp and has Zach gasping for air; after all the pleasure it finds him unprepared.  
Sean notices immediately and stops, resuming his touches; he kisses Zach slowly, biting his lower lip, and his fingers work attentively, much much slower.  
  
It is excruciating, both the discomfort and the wait, but Sean attentions and caresses surely bring Zach back to his begging.  
  
It’s the final moment of clarity, when Sean slips inside him, inch by inch, that has Zach sobbing into the sheets, face turned and sound muffled by the fabric; he knows that both the pain and the pleasure won’t come back, not after everything’s over.  
They are one now, to never be together after.

  
  
_Cruel, cruel, cruel.  
  
_Sean’s blood goes cold and he stops every single movement as soon as he notices the tears on Zach’s face, his quiet sobs coming right after; Sean cups Zach’s face, wipes at his tears with his thumb, bringing their foreheads together, forcing the other to look directly at him.

  
His voice is painstakingly soft when it comes «What’s wrong?» he asks, whispering, devotion clear even in such low tone; Zach doesn’t know what to do or to say, the words just don’t come.  
  
He chokes on a sob, and Sean kisses the side of his mouth «It’s cruel» he manages to say, all the hurt in the world not enough to describe the emotion in his eyes; Sean nods his understanding but says nothing in return.  
  
Zach needs a reassurance he cannot give.

  
  
_Stay, don’t leave. _  
  
Zachariah wants to scream those words, let the whole Ophir hear them, but dares not give them voice.  
He knows there is no way Sean could stay, he doesn’t want to hurt him more than he already has.  
  
Sean kisses him again, tenderness dripping from his lips, and Zach’s can feel all the sentiment the other feels towards him; it should be enough.  
  
Enough to keep him warm even in Sean’s absence.  
  
They resume their lovemaking, more intent and burning desire behind their action than before; Sean thrusts into Zach’s heat, and it perfect, their rhythms match and soon, they both reach for release.  
It’s liberating, finally being one, although for such a brief moment.  
  
They lay spent one on top of the other, and neither wishes to move; they bask in the afterglow, though it’s not as pleasant as it could’ve been with the threat of separation dwindling over their heads akin to a Damocles’ sword.  
  
They must settle with what they have now.  
  
When Sean moves it’s just to slowly slip out and lay besides Zach, whom, in turn, twists his body to face him; they hold each other in a tight embrace, hoping to disappear one into the other.  
Morning comes, it will all be over.  
  
As he holds Zachariah tired body against him, the other’s face hidden in his neck, Sean turns slightly to lightly peck at Zach’s cheek; it’s a gesture so domestic and affectionate, it has tears running down Zachariah’s face all over again.  
  
It’s too much to bear.  
  
Sean sadly smiles, but it’s the kindest smile Zach’s ever seen «We’ll be allright» he states, and Zach can only nod, because he understands perfectly what Sean means.

_I’ll leave, but you’ll stay. I’ll die, but you’ll live…so live.  
  
_Zach kisses Sean passionately again, and then lays his head to rest on his arm, observing and studying the other carefully, trying to imprint all that Sean is in his mind; it will fade in time, he knows, but it is all he can do.  
  
_Goodbye, my love.   
  
_  
  


  
_  
  
  
  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, now that we have reached the end of the story...  
I know the ending is kind of abrupt, but I sort of zoned out for like six hours while I was writing this 'cause I was on a roll, and eventually...it ended: like this. 
> 
> I will probably fix it later, when I get some better ideas.  
I hope you enjoyed it; I just wanted them to have a moment, just a small consolation, before everything went to hell.  
The picture is my personal headcanon, hoping that in all of Mars colonies there is still enough technology to print a small pictures (or to take one in the first place). 
> 
> That's it, thank you for reading, I hope from the bottom of my heart that you liked it!


End file.
